Vermillion Orange
by Sirenic Griffin
Summary: There are legends, it is said, about the demons and the last emperor but they have been lost to myth and fairytale however Naruto hasn’t ever been interested in all that, but unfortunately all that has been interested in him since before he was born.
1. Prologue

**Author Notes:** This story is under revision... again... so I'm simply going to post a prologue, and write it all out so that I won't have to revise it again. :P Tell me what you think.

**!AU! of a sort.**

****

**Prologue **

Once upon a time there was a mighty emperor known as Takeru Yamato, the 13th Emperor of the Yamato Dynasty, and many of his _kin_, his family, were spread throughout the Great Land, known as the Land of the Sun. He has been called Takeru the Great, and Takeru the kind, and in the underworld: Takeru the Last. It was said that it was his mighty spirit alone that held back the demons from descending on the land and he ruled his subjects with a peaceful smile.

However like many great people Takeru was envied for his position in life and many desired his power that came with his inheritance and, when marriage no longer seemed an option and he did not take concubines they sought that power through less savoury means delving into the powers of magic and chakra manipulation, illusions and attempts to drive him mad, fear, drugs and eventually _poison. _

Emperor Takeru Yamato fell ill, and became listless he was no longer able to make his way out of his bedroom and didn't hear when his pregnant wife Chika called for help when she was killed and the baby was ripped from her stomach. He aged prematurely and his eyes became white and then he died, and some say he took every secret of the Yamato kin with him.

He had no definite heir when he died and so many moons passed and the world grew dark, for no longer was there a ruler, an emperor, to hold the demons at bay, to stop them and to hold them to their prison.

The Okami, wolf demons, woke and feasted on the stars, moon and sun (1). The Kitsune, the fox demons, awoke and began to play their tricks, some harmless. Others not so. The dead no longer stayed dead and preyed on the unfortunate (2).

Chaos descended over the empire and slowly society began to regress to a time that had once existed before the time of emperors. No longer was there peace, and no longer did people trust each other. Then there came war for the much coveted crown which had disappeared in Takeru's death.

No longer did the corners of the empire meet, to laugh and to trade their varied merchandise.

No longer did the islanders journey to the mainland and the islands descended into depression.

The smell of rotted flesh became as natural to the nose as fresh leaves had once been.

For forty years (3) it lasted and the ones who had caused it died.

For forty years a Dark Age desceneded upon the land and much of what had been learnt, was lost.

For forty years humans and demons coexisted together, corrupting each other.

For forty years certain demons grew in strength to be known as the tailed ones and the Orochi-no-Yamata (4) unwillingly was forced to concede his throne and crown to another demon. The Kyuubi-no-Youka who reigned supreme as the strongest of the strong.

And the Dark Age continued till eight great mages (5) were born across the lands.

Qian, a mage who had holy powers and Zhen, a mage who manipulated thunder and lighting. Kan, the water mage and Xun of the wind. Gen from the moutains, and Dui of the Swamp. Kun of the earth and Li of the Flame.

The mages were drawn to each other and together they they split again the boundaries of the world sealing the gateway inside five mystical objects that came to be known as the Crowns of Shadows, to be worn no longer by a genealogy of blood but by a kingship defined purely by strength and intelligence.

Only the strongest could wear the crowns and become king and then the crowns were scattered taken and divided by chance by the great mages and together they searched the land for places for them to hide and to simply exist.

The light shone again and people who had never seen the sun rejoiced in harmony but no matter how hard they celebrated they always feared that time of year when the demons were sealed away. They called it _Samhain, _the end of the year, for it was on these two days that the binding was the weakest for the veil was particularly thing at that time of years.

Life returned to the land but no longer were people ruled by Emperors or a single monarch, the land was now irreversibly split apart, or so the people said.

The Mages passed down their skills to apprentices and eventually villages were founded, dedicated to learning arts of the mage, the ninja, in each village groups of _kin_ congregated and eventually tribes were formed and kingdoms were founded and began to dominate certain areas.

The Land of Fire, Wind and Water especially so.

The peoples made use of their demon blood and eventually forgot all reference to it.

But they never forgot about demons. Or the **tailed ones.**

Never 

For when the veil bindings were particularly weak, or the demon particularly strong, a demon would break through and appear; unexpected as natural disasters to wreak havoc upon the world. Nonetheless there were sometimes exceptions because there were times they were summoned sometimes intentionally others times not so intentionally and were sealed inside a human child so that child would be intended for greatness.

It was a dark curse however.

For while they are great they will never be loved fully, for people will always fear them waiting for the demon to escape for the bonds to crack and the demon to be unleashed to either wreck havoc or to disappear back behind the veil.

For demons have no thought about others, and are entirely self-centred, self-serving characters.

But while they are locked away we shall live: happily ever after.

**Things you didn't want to know but went into my thought process. **

****

(1) – This quote refers to many myths. When there is no light in the sky it shows isolation, evil and desolation. I wrote it in to symbolise a similarity to the Norse Myths concerning Ragnorak, the end of the world. One of my favourite cultures and myths. It is said in the prophecies that the wolves bound beneath earth will rise and swallow the sun and the Wolf that chases the moon through the sky will finally devour her. Just a side note Kouga from Inuyasha was an Okami, as are the wolves in Wolf Rain… I think anyway.

(2) – Nekomata are known for animating the dead and it's particularly demonic. Like Necromancy, best Necromancer novel however has to be Garth Nix's Abhorsen Series. Going back to Inuyasha Kirara is kinda like a Nekomata and in Inuyasha I'm told that the Nekomata of the Bijuu has been caught and bound on television: being incased in a young girl.

(3) – 40 is a very special in many religions. It's a time of waiting, especially in many Middle Eastern founded religions, 40 Years is also the amount of time that it takes for new generation to rise.

(4) – Orochi-no-Yamata is a Japanese legend about a dragon with eight heads and eight tails. In a special episode of Ranma he fought the Orochi-no-Yamata. It is obvious that's where Orochimaru gets him name from, but only hells knows why anybody would call their child after a demon, especially when they are so against them.

(5) – These names and attributes come from the IChing, a method called the Book of Changes.


	2. Chapter One

**Part One **

**The Whirlpool Tribe's Monster**

A young blonde boy slept undisturbed in a pile of leaves, he was twitching slightly: as if he was running after or from something in his sleep and every now and then he'd walk the realm of _almost_ awake and be somewhat aware of his surroundings, his eyes would be half open and his ears half listening but then he'd drift off back into sleep and sometimes a large fox-like grin would spread over his face and pull at the corners of his eyes, giving him a somewhat animalistic appearance. His once-brilliant blonde hair was coated in muck and dirt giving it a dulled dark gold sheen, on his face under the layers of dirt six old scars looked like they were slashed in symmetry upon his cheeks: three on the left, and three on the right.

A nightmare seemed to engulf him for a moment and images and words, mostly words flashed through his mind, in languages he didn't understand fully.

**_Pleh _**

_It Cries. _

_Og sdanh. _

_ Hurt. Hurt. _

_Stol dna stol! _

_Pain! _

**_Naip! _**

**_ Screams! _**

_Seirc ti. _

_People run! _

_Elbarenluv. _

_Red Liquid Everywhere! _

_Hcamots no sdnah _

_SCREAMS! _

_ **Og em tel! **_

**_Let me go! _**

_SMAERCS! _

_Hands on Stomach. _

_Erehwyreve diuqil der! _

_Vulnerable. _

_Nur elpoep! _

_It Cries. _

**_Smaercs! _**

**_Pain! _**

_Naip! _

_ Lots and Lots! _

_Truh. Turh. _

_Hands Go. _

_Seirc ti. _

_ **Help. **_

In an instant he jolted awake, sitting up straight with his fists clenched. The gravity affected him instantaneously and he moaned and lay back down, the world spinning. He cursed himself for the dull ache behind his eyeballs in words other children his age wouldn't know but he'd been privy to living with the elderly man he called Master Swirly: His real name was far too complicated for the four year old to remember.

He knew he shouldn't have fallen asleep. To fall asleep while not in the safety of ones own bed was a dangerous affair, he knew that. He knew that so well that he was angry that he had even though he hadn't meant to.

"We aren't meant to sleep." He whispered, affirming his earlier thoughts.

"Cause Monsters don't sleep, they wait and wait till the time is right and then they pounce and try and hurt us." He whispered, unaware he was speaking in multiple third person. To him it was natural. As natural as fearing the monsters.

They were different to him.

They had thick clothing that stunk and was hard to bite into and tasted like wood, and they didn't have faces like he did and they had sharp things that cut and hurt.

They also didn't like him.

They glared at him with stony eyes that he'd learnt meant they were angry. Angry at what? He didn't know.

When he was bored he'd tried to figure out what he'd done: Did he smell bad? Did he stink? Had he broken something that they liked? Had he eaten something he shouldn't?

He always came up with the same answer: no... he didn't think so... and yet they still were angry with him.

So, he did something for himself.

He decided that he hated them too.

Slowly the boy sat up, and stretched his toes out and his arms in front of him stretching his stiff muscles that had never slept, in his memory, anywhere else but his bed which was soft and fluffy. A soft mew escaped from his mouth as he felt his shoulders click comfortably but he quickly stifled it.

Master Swirly didn't have many rules and most included: to be clean and well presented, to not be seen, to not be heard, to look after yourself, to not get in my way and to not trouble other people. Usually they were easy to follow but when he disobeyed them he got hit with Master Swirly's buckle-less belt. He understood why the old man did it of course. Master Swirly was not a silly man and he had reasons for everything. He never hit him unless he had done something wrong... or if he was drunk.

It was another one of Master Swirly's rules: to not make noises that were beneath his status as a human being... the four year old didn't understand the entire sentence except that it meant he wasn't allowed to make noises, words were better. Master Swirly hit him harder for noises like mews, grunts, snorts and growls then he did if the boy asked why everything in the house had swirls on it.

For that he got a large slap to the head and Master Swirly would sit down regally, his back straight and his right hand inside his warm thick coat, his red hair, faded from old age was pulled into a ponytail by a leather strap. His world-weary blue eyes studied the young boys face and the young boy was startled how worn the old mans face was, like when he stayed far too long in the water bath: after the water that had been heated from the basement had long gone cold. All the boy remembered of the conversation was that this was the Tribe of the Whirlpool and that was the insignia for the Tribe, as well as Master's Swirly's crest.

Master Swirly's eyes had been shining with such pride and he shown the boy his seal-ring, and shown him how to mark documents officially with the thick clumps of red-wax and pretty soon the boy had gotten bored and had simply stared at the lovely pattern the seal made on the wax.

A swirl that began on the left side and swirled around in circle three times, the Tribe's seal was different and the swirl began at the left hand corner and swirled around eight times in small concurrent circles.

He hit himself then, firmly on the cheeks with both hands to wake himself up. He needed to be awake and he needed to be thinking. The action awoke the necessary feelings and restarted his brain from the half-sleep it had been in before.

For the first time since he'd run away from Master Swirly's house, and crossed the old sturdy wall that the went into the dense forest as far as he could see in both directions he noticed he was filthy. The dirt layers cracked on his skin where there was mud: he'd run through a stream the day before and but the other areas were primarily dirt and dust and anything dry that stuck to his skin. He resisted the urge to turn around and go back to the river and wash himself off.

He had an awful feeling in the pit of his stomach it wouldn't matter if he did or not. Master Swirly wasn't going to get angry at him this time.

Master Swirly wasn't in the condition to get angry at him this time.

888

It was only three days ago the boy who more often than not called himself The Monster realized. Three days ago he'd been living in Master Swirly's estate, eating Master Swirly's food and being scolded by Master Swirly and the woman known to him as Lady Yuzu.

He rarely left the estate, but he knew every inch of the grounds that he was allowed to journey to by himself (although he was never by himself as the other monsters were always watching) which wasn't that far; from the vegetable garden in the east to the chickens, ducks, pigs and horses in the west, from the old wooden gates which connected to the wall in the north to Dog and Sheep's pasture in the south which also lead into the main village.

Dog was a cow.

Sheep was a goat.

Three days ago it had been a sunny day and he'd been eager to simply disappear and go visit Sheep, the nanny goat was pregnant and bearing kids – he suspected the black goat that seemed to roam the forests around the wall and he wanted to see if he could either catch the stupid goat or see what colour the kids were… when they came. It was taking far longer than the rabbits that Master Swirly bred indoors.

Lady Yuzu had objected loudly to him leaving the house because apparently it was a special day and he'd had to work and clean up. He hadn't liked that. He hated it so much that he decided when he had his own house it would be _filthy_.

The woman had glared at him with intense blue eyes, and her naturally reddy-blonde bushy hair pulled into a tight bun and he had felt the temperature in the room drop and could see icicles growing from the edge of his room's doorframe. The wind swirled around the room becoming visible in whirl-pool like whirlwinds.

It was magic.

He didn't appreciate it and yelped, jumping out of his bed and trying very hard to fold it away properly and putting it in its cupboard along with his blankets and pillow. Lady Yuzu had given him a sleeping cap once to keep his head warm and prevent chills – it was the only present he ever received from the cold woman – and while it covered his nose and looked like a giant lizard he loved it to the point he cared for it very carefully.

It showed how few presents he received and he put it in a drawer along with his pyjamas and he changed for the day.

"I'm ready Lady Yuzu, ma'am." He said looking at his toes and the old woman nodded and walked away, expecting him to follow her and he did watching her ramrod straight back and with her obscenely brightly coloured sleeve-less kimono that contrasted greatly to the wooden walls.

"I want you to clean this room before you go out to play." The woman said stiffly and he nodded and looked around.

He could see a shadow through the paper door on the other side of the room and he knew it was one of three monsters that had been assigned to watch over him on the monthly rotation. However he wished it was either Fox or Rooster, because out of all the monsters who watched him they didn't _hate_ him. They disliked him mightily, and they wouldn't warn him if he was going to do something stupid (they'd help if he was in life-threatening danger-stupid) but they didn't hate him. He could see it in their eyes, the apathy and dislike instead of hatred.

However they were quite funny especially when they had shift together.

And he could always see them, or at least since Fox had proclaimed that there was no point to pretending to be out of sight, and sometimes when he was especially bored he could overhear Fox outside telling stories to the plants around the house.

The woman had called one of the stories Cinderella, and it was about a girl sentenced to the most difficult jobs and the most troublesome cleaning that would take weeks and she would have to do it in a single day.

He had a favourite quote too but he never told anybody. He didn't think they'd approve after all. The monsters disliked him and Lady Yuzu and Master Swirly disapproved of stories that weren't true.

They called it trash. But he could still hear Fox's words talking softly to the small garden vine.

"But, you know what? No matter how hard the task Cinderella was given, she never gave up, for it the people who give in to despair who are the people who don't deserve to live happily ever after."

The room wasn't like any of the rooms or tasks that Fox said Cinderella was given, it was bare except for a large coat of dust and the mats needed airing and the floors washing, the walls needed wiping down and he supposed that Lady Yuzu wanted the bed set up like in the other guest rooms that were currently filled and harder to do. Every room in Lady Yuzu's house had a purpose.

"And check with me when you've finished. We have some very important visitors today - an administrator negotiating the price of our wheat-grain from the Fire Tribe. You remember why it's important?" He bit his lip, and thought hard. Lady Yuzu did this often – springing questions on him that she'd mentioned once. She said it was to improve his memory but he hated it and would've preferred to forget it all or shove it in boxes to get old and mouldy.

"Wheat-grain is the most important grain on a comparable level as rice because it makes lots of things and is the Whirlpool's Tribe's main export. And it makes ramen and porridge. And people like that." His face grew large in a large kitsune' like smile and her mouth turned down at the corners. Disapprovingly.

"Sufficient." She said slowly and turned and stiffly left the room. He scrunched his nose up at her back and sneezed as a breeze got inside his nostrils and tickled him. He knew he couldn't blame her but he was sure Lady Yuzu was responsible.

The room only took a few hours and he found a lovely photograph under the gap between the one of the drawers of the heavy writing desk and the floor. Only his fingers could've fit because they were small and he fished it out and a wide grin crossed his face.

Lady Yuzu's hair was out in a puff ball around her head bound by a black scarf with an odd piece of flat metal on it and she had both her arms which were wrapped around three children who looked similar to her and the red haired man who had a similar band – and he was stunned to recognise as Master Swirly with all his fingers. He only had three on right and was short a pinkie on the left. The boy had bright blonde hair and frantically trying to escape from the old woman while the elder of the two girls was letting herself be embraced with hair similar to Lady Yuzu and her arm was around the younger sister who looked very much like a boy but he could tell she was female simply by the female kimono she was wearing. She had bright red hair similar to the man and he snorted realising that that would've been what Master Swirly would've looked like as a girl.

He heard a sliding door and met Lady Yuzu's scowling face.

"I found a picture under the desk." He replied simply and Lady Yuzu snatched it off him and for a moment her face softened to an expression he remembered from the picture before it hardened again and the boy felt that he was in a very bad position.

"You've finished the room. Go check on Sheep." He couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Sheep had been okay and as he approached he could see the tail of the rogue billy-goat disappearing past the boundary line of where he was supposed to go and he squashed the desire to follow it. He wasn't allowed to otherwise the monster who he knew had followed him out to the paddock would catch him and he'd be brought to Master Swirly who would be disappointed in him and take the necessary steps so that he understood it was bad to leave the grounds.

The nanny had head-butted him annoyingly for attention and he patted her head and tried to get a look at her swollen stomach under the straggly woollen coat, she never let him touch it and Dog had moved closer from her far corner and had decided to share with them all a foul odour.

He glared at the cow who continued to eat the dry grass, and as the numerous layers of loose skin under its neck wobbled as its swollen neck digested it.

The sky then made a noise and the monster following him had coughed loudly hinting that was time to go indoors and the boy felt himself obliging and heading back to the estate through the worn path and the strange clearings that he sometimes caught the mask-less monsters practicing magic and physical stuff in.

It was Wolf, that was guarding him that day and the grouchy man was more likely to deliver a swift kick in the ribs while _helping_ him. He, like Fox and Rooster, didn't care if the boy knew he was there, but unlike the former monsters there was always the underlying feeling of malice and hatred in his gaze.

The sky rumbled again and he grinned and looked back at Wolf who made no visible reaction. He'd been taught once, by Lady Yuzu, that the Whirlpool Tribe lived in the centre of a large forest that was only competently navigated by people who had lived there for many years. There was only one other forest in the whole known world just like it and it was a baby compared to the Cursed Forest and was only days long instead of the weeks in which was simply the radius. 

It was possible to die out there for the forest survived on minimal rain-water like everything else because the only water available to the village came from the underground bores and wells and few springs which were used primarily in the production of ramen. Rain rarely fell upon the Whirlpool Tribe and supplied enough for the whole-grain plants to survive.

When he'd ask why the Forest didn't die she'd told him that it was alive and that it's caretakers kept very good care to keep it so. He hadn't been allowed more questions.

Rain was rare and it was going to rain today. A sign of good luck and he began to run back to the house and flung the door open, however what was behind the door stopped him in his tracks. His blue eyes widened in shock, reflecting the horrific sight that he had trouble processing.

_Red liquid. _

_Lots of it. _

_ Over the walls. _

_Master Swirly's body of the floor. _

_ Clothes stained in it. _

_Not awake. _

_Barely breathing. _

_Lady Yuzu standing up. _

_Hand moving trying to fashion some sort of spell similar to the way the monsters hands moved. _

_Two monsters that followed him usually in the room. _

Then he heard the voice.

**"Run, whelp!" **He spun to see Wolf drawing a long knife from his cloak and the man moved aside to let him sprint back outside and down the path and out of sight, through the hole in the wall and out into the Forest. The words vibrated around his skull like an echo and he wondered what drove him to run outside the wall. He usually would've run past the nanny-goat and the cow and to the entrance which he knew led to the village but instinct had taken over and told him to go to the forest where only the kin of the Whirlpool Tribe could find him.

'It was safe there.

'Safe for us,' A voice whispered eerily in his head and he interpreted it as his own thought process encouraging him. He knew no better.

And for two days he had run inhumanely, surviving, and if he had a chance to wonder he would've been bedazzled, without sleep and eating and drinking what he could find. The Forest seemed to be helping him in its own cursed way… but on the third day he had been exhausted and collapsed on the ground blacking out and descended into much needed sleep to rest both his body and mind.

And it had done him the world of good he realised as he gazed around with uncertainty. His brain felt clearer and he was in more control of himself. He could move now without pain shooting through his legs and while his stomach growled hungrily he could now ignore it.

He glanced at the sun, trying gage what time it would be and realised it was high in the bright blue cloudless sky. That meant it was probably midday or soon afterwards and he should either look for food or keep going so he pulled himself shakily to his feet but was stopped as the sound of wind passing over metal met his ears and he was forced back to sitting on his bottom.

A large elongated sharp knife close to his left side pinned his child-clothes to the ground, the dull silver-coloured iron instrument glinted menacingly with a fine line of crimson red decorating the sharp side of the blade.

A matching line was decorating his stomach, non-lethally but enough to let a small stream of blood wet the front of his clothes as it began to congeal. The boy didn't react and for a moment he simply stared at it in shock and disbelief.

The feeling of pain was abstracted by the fact he could see the knife and its cruel glint in the sun.

An eerie laugh filled the area and he dropped his eyes to scan the ground around where he'd fallen asleep in and eventually his eyes ran up against a pair of open-toed boots. The toes were pale and unpainted and the boots were made of thick dark blue fabric, the legs were covered in loose black pants and a white cloak reached his feet covering his shirt but was open revealing a leather belt.

A white mask that he was unfamiliar with covered his face and the hood covered his head. A black band covered the forehead of the mask and a swirl and a triangle symbol decorated the centre of the metal plate. He knew that sign, every one of his monsters had it on their person somewhere.

The design on the mask however was **very** familiar as were the eyes that glinted with that trace of malice and hatred beneath it.

He recognised this monster and was afraid; he was an angry monster and his red eyes looked positively evil.

Wolf.

It wasn't hard for the young boy to imagine the teeth beneath the mask, glinting wolfishly inhumanely with a mouth full of canine's that belonged to the animal he got his namesake from.

It wasn't hard for the boy to imagine the body that the cloak hid, and it wasn't the wry, tall frame that he had seen on particularly hot days.

Unconsciously the boy shivered, and shook himself clearing the vile images and sending them back to where they belonged. They didn't belong to reality.

Nothing about this belonged in reality.

Wolf's knife hurting him didn't belong in reality.

Wolf liked to play games with him.

Games that the boy never enjoyed playing that involved sharp things, moving quickly and running from consequences of Wolf catching before nightfall.

But at the end of the games, of the consequences, that's all they were: **games. **Not reality. Sure, Wolf hated him but he didn't hate him enough do something about it.

After all Wolf never really hurt him, at times the bigger man looked like he wanted to but something always held him back. Maybe his rules. Maybe not. He grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head like he always did, it was a trait that he'd began to mimic from Rooster when Fox was angry with him.

Usually from turning up late for watching him.

The monsters who watched over him did so in a pattern that was very confusing and held no real rhythm. Sometimes they were solitary, other times they came in pairs, and they would always be changing, taking turns, never the same ones for too long, and for a month on random schedules it would Fox and or Rooster's turn, a respite from the feelings of hatred. Most of them he didn't see because they preferred to stay hidden, but he knew they were there.

And he was getting better at spotting them.

That is if they didn't use magic.

He'd asked Fox where she went between the long breaks because obviously they went _somewhere_ and she'd replied that they went back to the fire country. He was simply part of the schedule.

"Did I run good Wolf?" He asked whimpering as his hands felt his stomach and the man laughed. His large coat shaking, his broad shoulders going up and down in amusement and but his red eyes never left the boys face. He was amused? The boy was confused.

"Yeah, but no more running." He said finally and the boy looked up at him in delight. He was going home? Back to the house? He could and everything would be alright? Wolf 's coat moved and the boys instincts spoke to him again.

_'Run, fool! He's taken a change of heart. He will kill us.' _

The boys eyes widened and his body moved without his orders and leant forward, crouching on all fours. He could imagine the twist in Wolf's mouth, a bitter twist and the mans eyes narrowed to fit the way he'd twisted his mouth.

_'Move! You stupid pup!'_ His instincts screamed, as he dived quickly towards the left just as another sharp knife whizzed past in a downward slant and got stuck in one of the many trees in the area. The boy was frightened now. He hadn't seen Wolf's hand even move.

He wouldn't survive the next attempt.

"I suppose it's true what they say." Wolf muttered and the boy looked up at him, meeting his eyes and subconsciously searching for ways to escape, to move and to run.

"Monsters really do have the cursed luck." He gulped and his eyes landed on the tree that Wolf's knife had landed. The knife that had wanted to hurt him. He refused to think any futher then that belief.

He then realised just how lucky he had been.

Implanted through the hole at the top, and stuck in the bandage that made the knife wieldable was another sharp object far more intricate in nature. It was thin, like a needle, and rose coloured, dangly objects jingled and the beads and round orbs that were attached made it look somewhat beautiful.

He then realised it wasn't a weapon that had stopped the knife, but a hairpin. Lady Yuzu had worn such things when she was dressing up with Master Swirly to go to town, to meet with the provincial governor or the council members. She was often bitter about meeting with those people but she always tried to look better despite her physical 'flaws' as she called them.

The night before the meetings she'd tie her hair up with rags, and in the morning her messy, thick hair would manageable, and she'd then twist it and use the ornate hairpins to hold it up.

It was beautiful but he could see the point which pinned it to a tree was deadly sharp.

It hadn't been skill that he had survived, it had been mere luck.

The boy found himself gulping, frozen in his tracks. Wolf wasn't so motivated, his eyes flashed dangerously around as he searched the trees and the surrounding area for the person who had had the fortune or misfortune to be in time to save the boys life and anger him.

"Whose there?" The man eventually barked, having found nobody and a very feminine voice laughed at his ferocity, mocking him for being so easily angered and emotive and losing what was considered a prize possession in his line of work. The leaves shifted and a young woman walked into the clearing, still laughing in a very controlled manner.

The boy knew that she was a young woman and she was very unlike the monsters he'd seen previously. Instead of the form-concealing cloak, mask and head coverings her state of dress was quite revealing. She wore a short black and red flowery kimono which barely reached her knees and the sleeves had been cut off at the shoulder and the edges darned with red thread. Under the kimono was a tight black netted shirt that connected to her fingers by several rings on her middle fingers and thick black tights and knee length open-toed boots. A thick white band decorated one arm, and a thick Red Cross adorned it.

Her dark hair was tinted red, and two large dark clan-marks stripped either of her cheeks. He'd seen the marks before. Her dark eyes looked at Wolf in amusement and her hair was tied in a sharp bun that was filled with needles and pins of many description, some ornate some not so. Her mouth twisted wryly but no joke or laughter was present in her voice when she spoke.

"Hey! It's not nice to throw knives at small children…. Or is that let children run with sharp objects…" She asked, tilting her head to the side, a sly grin on her face.

"Rin. What would a medic do against an ANBU?" The woman called Rin took no offense to his tone and smiled chillingly and the boy could've sworn that the woods shuddered, their branches beginning to reach out and lean down, grass blades moving and vines seemed to come alive. Wolf's eyes widened and the smirk on Rin's face grew.

"There is a reason they call this the mother of the Forest of Death. She protects her own." The man swore in words that the boy had never heard, not even from Master Swirly's mouth and he leapt towards the woman, seeming to forget the existence of the boy entirely. His hands moving in symbols and fire dancing on his hands, the woman leapt away easily.

A dozen needles clutched between her knuckles, of varying assortments, all of them deadly sharp.

Three were already lodged in the tree and a stray vine was already wrapping itself around and through the man's legs and ankles, tripping him up and sending him to the ground, the fire sending sparks to all the foliage, luckily still mildly soggy from the rain but eventually would catch light.

Rin walked over to him, each footstep making a loud noise that was far too obvious to be an unconscious action. She bent down slowly a needle poised above his hand and a cold glint in her eyes.

"I will not let my sensei's sacrifice be in vain." Wolf growled and tried to work his legs out from the vines, unsuccessfully.

"If we kill him it still means the sacrifice worked. That's what we are _meant _to do." The woman snarled, her face twisting and her hand pushed one of her own needles in his hand, an act the boy was sure to have been painful but Wolf emitting no sound, no cry and he did not even wince as Rin twisted it making the silver bells on the end of this particular needle jingle.

"Before I was conscripted to the Fire Tribe, I was a Whirlpool native. I may just be a medic but we don't loose on our lands. Like protects like." She fingered another needle, and her sharp eyes darted around for a moment to rest on his back, her needle poised as she slammed it into what would've been a vital nerve in Wolf's spine.

Instead it found itself implanted in log, lodged so deeply in the woodgrains that Rin simply let it go, spinning around, her eyes already searching for where Wolf had moved to without her knowledge. The boy realised he wasn't as forgotten as he thought he'd been.

He could smell Wolf's breath behind him and could see the reflection that one of his knees cast on the ground. He could hear his baritone voice that had regained it's calm peace.

"You forget Kazama, it is Fire who won the war, and it's through our grace that you are still alive." Rin's eyes darkened menacingly but another more familiar voice entered the fray. For a moment the boy had trouble placing it.

"Lucky that isn't just Kazama, then, _ne sempai_?" The form of respect was mocking and as the boy spun around he caught sight of another monster, tall, wry and slim in a feminine way, his clothing identical to Wolf's and his red eyes alight in enjoyment. His mask was a splash of colours like Wolf's other mask, and the reds, oranges, yellows, greens and browns decorated the surface in a feather like pattern.

The boy could practically _feel_ the taunting smirk that hung in the air, ready to infuriate the other monster. Their actions in perfect symmetry and he could see Rin's hands full of needles again as she watched the two monsters. They were from the same noble clan that much was obvious.

_'Run! Brat!' _His subconscious yelled and the boy found himself listening, not staying to see what would befall them, not staying to see what Rin and Rooster would do to Wolf or what Wolf would do to them.

He bolted again, crashing through the undergrowth praying that the forest would protect him, darting further into the maze of trees however he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched and after a while he stopped and frantically he looked around spinning to find two familiar vivid green eyes that he always looked forward to seeing as part of his bodyguard crew.

That he'd always enjoyed listening to when she talked to the plants.

Her green eyes contrasted directly to the orange upper portion of the mask and the white marking at the base, her cloak was open enough to reveal her two hands, one glued to the vine and both bare feet also seemingly clutching the green surface effortlessly.

He'd never been one to need physical presence or comfort before, mainly because it had never been available to him, nor had he known it. He had never known anybody other than the animals, who were always somewhat nervous around him, to want to touch him in anything other than violence so maybe it was the fact that Fox's eyes for the first time weren't apathetic and uncaring, and the expression present was similar to Lady Yuzu's when she had seen the photograph.

"Fox!" He cried out and she tilted her head to the side, cocking it and her eyes looked strangely like they were evaluating him and she let herself slide down the vine and land gracefully on the ground.

"Yes, that would be my name." She said in affirmation and he broke into a grin and he wanted to touch her, make sure she was real that she was solid. Fox wouldn't hurt him… she was more likely to watch him do stupid things then correct him but she'd never let him get really hurt. His head was hurting again and he supposed he was doing too much thinking. He was still tired… to tired to really think. He didn't want to think, and he'd either run or sleep.

"I want to go home." He mummered, his legs collapsing again to the ground, and he slowly felt her arms reach around him, picking up the small boy and holding him tight. He usually didn't like other people touching him but this felt warm and safe.

"You can't go home yet," He looked up at her, and her Fox mask and at her green eyes that seemed so tender and reflected his own form back at him and she smiled as she began to walk directly up the tree, branches moving away for her.

"Why not?" Her eyes sparkled.

"I'm tired." He said slowly.

"You've been out here for three days."

"Couldn't stop running. Wolf told me too run and I ran but I was tired… is that why he was still mad at me?"

"Wolf's mad at everyone. You won't see him again."

"Why not?"

"He broke one of the rules that the Lord of Fire set down. He isn't allowed to live."

"Oh…"

"Rin and Rooster will take care of it. Don't you worry."

"Is Master Swirly and Lady Yuzu alright?"

"Master Swirly? Do you mean your grandparents?"

"What's a grand-parent?"

"Er…. Master Hiroshi and Lady Yuzu were at the hospital last thing I heard."

"I'm tired."

"I'm sorry it took so long for us get clearance to come and find you. There has been a lot of confusion and… other things."

"Why are you being so nice?"

"I got a rude wake up call from the dead."

"What sort?"

"The sort that really hurts and involves knives, ribs and falling in the desert, worst place in the world the desert is."

"Oh. Where are we going?" Her eyes looked back down at his.

"Se-cr-et." She said slowly and the boy smelt perfume and dozed off into sleep.


End file.
